


the privacy of an early morning

by sadie18



Series: a study in pining [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: in which oliver breaks his wrists and percy offers up some rare comforta study in how opposites deal with attraction





	the privacy of an early morning

**Author's Note:**

> im planning on making this a series of standalones- it's a bit of writing practice!!  
my tumblr: https://oliivverwood.tumblr.com/  
xoxo

The sun was setting on the horizon of the rolling Scottish hills outside of Percy's window. He felt a bit silly, studying in front of the window, knowing he'd be distracted by the gold and orange and pinks and yellows that would filter through the glass and light up his room with everything beautiful, everything warm, but he did it anyways. A guilty pleasure. An indulgence.

He chewed the tip of his quill, entranced by the clouds moving slowly, some crossing the path of the sun, casting shadows on the heated cobblestone of Hogwarts. 

It was only right for Oliver to storm into the room at this moment, startling Percy so that he scattered his sheets all over the desk, cursing. 

"Sorry." Oliver said, only sounding part guilty, mostly sheepish, a tiny smile flitting over his face, which dropped back into a frown immediately. His hair was mussed completely, his eyes tired Percy's heart jumped- how could it not? Oliver was classically handsome, devastatingly charming, unwaveringly oblivious, and had Percy wrapped around his pinky finger. 

He didn't even _know. _

As Percy scanned Oliver, once up, once down, he noticed Oliver's forearms. The maze of veins and freckles and scar from a nasty quidditch accident that Percy was accustomed to seeing, to admiring, were covered by casts. Both of them. 

"I fell over. On the stairs." Oliver sighed, raising his arm to rub at his eyes tiredly, only to let out a noise of frustration as he felt the weight in his arms. "Pomfrey says if I use too many potions to heal it I'll cause permanent damage in my liver and stomach." 

"_Really, _now?" Percy asked skeptically, arching a brow in a manner that could only perfected with practice. "How are you going to study?"

Oliver scoffed irritatedly, slouching onto Percy's bed, and for once, he didn't protest. "As if I'm worried about _studying._ I'm off training for four weeks at _least. _Puddlemere was supposed to be coming to the next game." 

Percy winced, his heart twinging a little at how _lost _Oliver looked. The boy breathed, ate, drank quidditch- it was his lifeblood, his drive, his dream. Even if it was just four weeks, it would be four weeks too long. And _scouts- _Oliver was good enough for _scouts. _

(Selfishly, Percy wished his hard work would pay off as easy as it did for an athlete. As it did for _Oliver, _who passed his classes effortlessly, flew like a dream, was universally loved by _all)_

"I'll help you with studying." Percy murmured, injecting as much sympathy as he could into his voice without revealing that he _hated _seeing Oliver like this- a shell of his former self, the one who would wake Percy up to study before he himself went off to wake up before the rest of the team, at the crack of dawn. 

Oliver didn't say anything back, but offered up that grin again. Percy whipped back to his work so fast that his neck cracked- it was worth it if Oliver wouldn't see the blush that crawled up his neck to warm his face. 

The heat reminded him of something he couldn't have. It was something he would _never _have, no matter how hard he worked. 

* * *

"Need your help." Oliver asked him the next morning. 

It was a Saturday, yet they were both still awake, before the sun had risen, because that's just how they worked. 

Oliver was sat on his bed, facing Percy, looking surprisingly vulnerable in a white shirt and his boxers, his eyes flitting around anxiously and fidgeting his fingers. Percy pushed his glasses onto his face crookedly, concerned. 

"I can't shave." Oliver mumbled helplessly, holding his hands up, his casts like a white flag. Percy eyed his jaw, and saw that indeed, a dusting of brown and blond stubble was adorning his face. It was such a subtle difference, making him look older, more gaunt- yet it was enough to make Percy frown. 

"Want me to take care of it?" Percy whispered, his voice still croaky like one's was when they just woke up. Oliver nodded once, his face flooding with heat, and it clicked in Percy's mind why Oliver was so distraught over the simple favour. 

Oliver had been independent from day one. He had worked his team from the ground up with no help from anybody but himself. When he _did _struggle in school, he'd sit in the library for hours instead of asking Percy. He was always in control, always held the cards. 

Even if it didn't seem like it, easy-going, happy-go-lucky Oliver Wood hated the idea of vulnerability. Giving someone else that _power _over you was dangerous, and while Oliver played a sport that had him one-hundred feet in the air, to him, giving someone else the chance to make the decisions for himalmost _pained _him. 

One look at Oliver's face confirmed all of Percy's assumptions. 

"Into the bathroom, then." Percy said lightly. Oliver heaved himself up and walked to the bathroom without a glance backwards. 

The large boys's bathroom was cold and somewhat eerie this early in the morning, nobody in there to fill the chamber with echoes except for the two of them. Percy summoned a stool, sitting Oliver down on it with a gentle push. 

Percy first lathered shaving cream on his hand, slowly lathering it onto Oliver's face. It was a favour for a friend, nothing more, but it felt so _intimate. _Percy looked away, looked at the clean white tiles of the floor, the reflection in the mirror, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, _anywhere _but Oliver, who's lips were parted, his eyelids low and lashes fluttering, his cheeks blushed.

He murmured the spell that would make his wand wield magic like a razor, and when he brought it to Oliver's face, the boy jerked away slightly. 

"Relax." Percy mumbled, "I've got you." 

Oliver relaxed. 

Percy didn't apply too much pressure, for fear that he'd hurt Oliver, and realised that Oliver was no damsel in distress. Oliver was Oliver, the same headstrong, stubborn boy he'd always known. If he got a nick, he wouldn't make a sound. 

Not that Percy wanted to nick Oliver, though. He could never hurt Oliver. 

He swiped up and down the left side of his jaw first, then his right. He moved closer, to get Oliver's upper lip, and he glanced at the two of them in the mirror. 

Percy, his glasses low on his nose, in plaid blue boxers and a black shirt, his skinny, pale frame bent over Oliver, sitting down on the stool, gazing up at Percy, his feet flat on the cool floor, his hands stretching out, then clenching again.

They were eye to eye now, Percy slightly above, concentrating on Oliver's chin, bringing his wand slowly down the sharp line of it, leaving clean shaven, smooth skin. 

"Up." Percy tapped Oliver's chin softly, and he raised it accordingly, giving Percy full access to his neck, and Percy paused wondrously, because here Oliver Wood was, giving him full access to his neck while he held a sharp object. When he pressed it to Oliver's jugular, the latter shivered slightly, biting his lip. Percy placed his hand onto his shoulder, but he wasn't sure if it was to steady Oliver, or himself. 

It was over all too quickly, Percy towelling the rest of the cream and suds off of Oliver's neck, jaw and upper lip, curling his hand into a fist to hide his twitching hands as he tossed the rag to the side. 

"All done." Percy said, his voice a pitch high. "Need anything else?"

Oliver shook his head quickly, staying sat, and Percy made to walk away before Oliver choked out a strangled, "wait!"

When Percy turned, Oliver looked him in the eye for the first time that morning. 

"Can you help me do it for the next few weeks?" He mumbled. 

They stood apart, four meters between them, two boys in their boxers in the empty bathroom of their dormitory. Percy knew he looked completely put together- he'd seen so himself, in the mirror, but he'd never felt so _wrecked, _exhausted by the menial task of shaving someone. 

Of course, it wasn't just someone. It was _Oliver. _

"No problem." Percy whispered. "Anything you need."

He walked out of the room. 

Percy didn't see Oliver's head drop to his hands, his hands running over his impeccably smooth face. Percy didn't see Oliver's deep exhale, his shaky inhale. And Percy _definitely _couldn't see into Oliver's head, where the boy was wondering what he was going to do with all the _feelings _he had when Percy would be inches away from his face again, their next appointment. 


End file.
